Domestic Bliss
by AuthorColorCoated
Summary: What's the best part about living with the tornado known as his girlfriend? Oh, I'm sure Remy can think of a few things. . . Five chapters exploring the relationship and life he's sharing with Rogue, as told from Remy's POV. *Companion story to Flying South.*
1. Chapter 1 - Pecan Pie

A series of short chapters all from Remy's POV. There will be five chapters total, and they'll be uploaded on Tuesdays.

This story won't necessarily be in chronological order, with one chapter taking place in the past (but that chapter will be marked). No big picture plot with this one, just slices of the life that Remy &amp; Rogue share together.

This is a companion story to **_Flying South_**, this chapter in particularly is a companion to _**This is Halloween**_. It can be read independently, and I tried to fill in all importantly info if you haven't read those stories, but you should still read them because I wrote them :-D.

Despite the fact that not all chapters will have a M rating, I've chosen that rating because some chapters will.

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**Domestic Bliss**

**Chapter 1 - Pecan Pie**

I stare down at the blueprints on my desk, committing them to memory. In a few days, they'll be all I have to go on. I let my eyes follow the lines, making mental note of every vent and every window. I don't plan on using either of them, but a good thief knows to be prepared for anything. I slouch slightly lower in my chair and flip to the next page. The electric system seems fairly standard, but I thoroughly review it anyway. I didn't get to where I am by being lazy.

If you're the best, you have to be the best, and that's exactly what I plan on doing.

I look over it for a minute more and flip to the next page, eying the infa-red detection system schematics that are starting to feel familiar to me. I've been reviewing this building and it's subsequent information for about six hours now. I'll give myself another two or three days and then I'll know them backwards, forwards, and blind.

I haven't told Rogue yet, that I'll be gone for a good four weeks sometime next month. I only found out yesterday, but it must have slipped my mind to mention it. She got home from work, and planned to change before dinner, but some how that all morphed into me following her up the stairs and taking her in the shower; Turning that tight little body around, pushing her breasts against the tile, and pounding into her from behind with little to no abandon.

Obviously, you could see why I forgot to mention it. I'm sure my sub-conscience was trying to deal with the fact that I'd be separated from her for the longest time we've been apart since moving in together. I guess on one hand, I like to have an excuse for why I pushed my fully clothed girlfriend into a wet shower, but on the other hand the way her shirt clung to her breasts, before I ripped it off of her, was pretty fantastic. I tell myself that I'm not a complete caveman, but it really seems that I have no self-control around her. I've tried not to think with my dick so much, but it's a fairly futile effort.

With a deep breath, I flip another page; letting fingers dance over the thin engineer paper and the follow the path my mind is taking.

I'm interrupted by a knock at my door.

I'm slightly curious as who it would be. I've made sure we have no neighbors, and as Rogue's friends wouldn't really stop by while she's at work, it's a short list for the unannounced visitor.

I roll up the papers I've been reviewing and tuck them out of sight. Standing, I smooth out my thin white tank top over my chest. It's thin enough that I should be wearing it under something, but what do I care when I'm in my own home? It matches fine with my dark jeans, and frankly, I don't really care.

I roll my neck, hearing a few audible pops, and stretch my arms over my head as I walk to the door, feeling stiff from one position in my desk chair for far too many hours.

Walking through the foyer, I curse to myself as my bare feet trip over a forgotten socket wrench. Why on earth would a socket wrench be laying on our wood floors in the foyer instead of, say, a garage workshop? I'm starting to think the answer is: Because I live with a tornado. I open the door.

I'm not going to say I'm surprised, because I knew it would happen eventually, but I didn't expect to see Felecia Hardy today. Halloween was only a few weeks ago, and I typically only see her a handful of times a year. Sure, we've done business together quite a few times, but Felicia is what you would call "small potatoes" compared to me. (But not compared to Lapin, which is why he always tries to do jobs with her. I think she hasn't quite realized that he's been calling them dates and bragging that the two of the have been going out. Far be it from me to ruin the illusion.)

Her hair is blonde today and she's dressed in a hot pink cardigan, with a black mini skirt, (at least she left the cat suit at home). Of course, only the top four buttons of her cardigan are undone, showing off a bit off her cleavage (with the edges of her white satin bra subtly peaking out, no less).

"Remy," she gives me a smile and a nod, and tilts her head to the side.

I lean forward and oblige, kissing her on the cheek while she kisses the air next to mine.

"Entrez," I gesture into our foyer with my opposite hand.

She's smiling wide as she shoves the dish that was in her hands into mine and chirps, "Happy housewarming!"

I didn't even notice she was carting something, but that is definitely a pie plate.

She gives me that impish smile I used to be so familiar with, and drags her fingers along my chest as she walks past my body to enter.

"Yo made me a pie?" And by the looks of it, a pecan pie. No complaints there.

She shrugs, "You know that baking helps me think."

I pull up the lid on the dish and get a whiff of fresh baked goods. "Yo were tinking 'bout me?"

"Remy," she shakes her head a bit and answers me with a laugh, "I've been thinking about you since Halloween."

She looks around, noting the mocha stained wood floors and the green painted walls. My decorator did a great job when I bought the place. Well, obviously, I did a great job at describing what a wanted. I believe it was something similar to, "Relaxing and sophisticated, but made for someone with the grace of a linebacker and attention span of a toddler."

What? Can you blame me? I know Rogue, and if I was having a house built for both of us, I knew it needed solid construction, and very solid furniture. She looks so small and harmless, but the woman gets so wrapped up in what she's doing that she doesn't pay attention to anything else. Sure, it's great when she's letting me nail her on the kitchen table, but it's not so great when she gets distracted from putting her stuff away to go work in the garage (hence the discarded tools randomly throughout the house).

I follow Felicia as she walks through the foyer and further into the house, her eyes taking in everything.

"An' here I tought yo' were jus visitin' me, not casing de joint."

Her head turns so that I can see her roll her eyes, even though there's a smile on her face, "Remy, it's a beautiful house."

"Dat it is," I agree with a nod because it's certainly true.

When I had the place built, I knew it had to be someplace I could see myself living. You all don't know this, but I'm not a big fan of putting down roots. Roots mean being connected. That's a big pill to swallow, ladies and gents.

Sure I had (have?) a condo in the city, but I've always done a lot of work in New York, and had long term contracts there, so it made sense. Rogue spent a lot of time there, a few years back, when she was discovering herself and this Cajun was more than happy to help her do so.

I wasn't planning on settling in New York. Sure, I'm still young and there's still time, but I figured the first roots I'd put down would be in Milan or Malta or Tokyo. Just somewhere a bit more grandiose and unexpected than the outskirts of NYC.

Things change.

Rogue has family here, and responsibilities. She has everything. I doubt that she'd run away with me with just the promise of sex. Now she doesn't have to run and we can still build the relationship between us.

I look back on how it all started, and it's no surprise that I'm in love with her. I mean, when a sexy little super hero with a deadly touch calls you up and says she wants it and she wants you to be the one to give it to her? Hard to resist.

Of course, we were on and off for years. I moved on, slept with other women, but it's worth saying that most other tits I came in contact with, I wished they were hers.

She shows up in New Orleans last Christmas. She was on vacation and as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

We spent one night together and I wasn't ready to give it up. I hired some architect two days later. Told him I needed a house and I needed it to be perfect. Trust me, when you're willing to pay anything, contractors will jump at a project.

I know what you're thinking, that a see the girl once after a year a half and I buy a house? A little ridiculous, I know, but I wasn't about to lose the best sex I'd ever had.

And sex like that means something.

So I showed up two months later: Took a job beneath my pay grade so I could be in town, rented the tackiest five star room I could find because I knew she'd simultaneously love and hate it. The rest of the night was simple: worship her body until she couldn't say no.

All the ingredients to domestic bliss.

She's just…

She's everything.

My mind drifts back to Felicia. She's a bit elusive, but we're friends, were once lovers, and I care about her.

Her fingers tips dance around the frame of the French doors that are currently open and lead into my office. She glances at the leather chair and my spotless desk, "And here I pictured you working on the couch."

"Y'know, Felicia, I'm not as lazy as yo seem to remember."

She shrugs impishly, "Your house was easy to find."

I roll my eyes, "O' course it was. If I didn't want people to find it, den dey wouldn't be able to."

Which is true. I live with a woman who has a lot of family that care about her, and is also looking for a normal life. I wasn't going to take that life away from her, wasn't going to ask her to disappear. It meant I couldn't be a ghost either, meant I had to put my name to something, had to do it honestly, but it's worth it.

Stepping closer to my guest, I place a hand on the small of her back and subtly guide her into the kitchen.

She looks around, interested, and settles in a chair at the kitchen table. I set her dish on the far end before grabbing silverware and two plates.

I sit down at the seat diagonal from hers as she passes me a generous slice a pie, and cuts herself a smaller one.

"Remy." She says my name, staring directly at me, before I can even pick up my fork.

Felicia Hardy is a wonderful person, but not one to waste any time. I knew that she had to be here for something.

"Oui?" I lift an eyebrow and tilt my head in her direction, but I don't let it stop me from the slice in front of me. I bring a bit of pie up to my mouth as she continues.

"The Halloween party?"

I nod in acknowledgement as I chew.

"I know who your girlfriend is." She says it as if it's supposed to mean something. I can see it in the tension over the bridge of her nose and the pull at the sides of her mouth.

I'm most surprised she knows. Miss Hardy is connected to networks outside the Guild.

She may work in tandem with us, and occasionally for us, but she isn't Guild, isn't family. She's not tied to the same oaths and the same honesty. There is always honor among thieves, but she hasn't swore into it with her blood.

"I'm not going to pass the word around."

I know her, and I can hear the conviction in her voice. It's why I'm okay with her knowing.

I'm not ashamed of Rogue moonlighting as a super hero. In fact, I'm damn proud of the girl and all she can do. I just like the idea of avoiding unnecessary trouble with my coworkers.

"I know yo' wouldn' say anythin', Hardy, but dat makes me wonder why yo came all de way here jus to say something dat I all ready know."

"Remy," she sighs as the edges of her lips dip slightly into a frown, "Don't date the hero."

She looks so concerned that I hold back my immediate response. Her wide eyes betray her worry and it's really kind of sweet.

"You know my history," her head shakes sardonically, "and you've seen me embarrass myself over a relationship that didn't work out more times than I can count."

"Felicia," I set my fork down momentarily, "I 'ppreciate yo concern, I really do, but -"

She cuts me off with a shake of her head, "Anna seems wonderful, she really does, and it's very obvious that she cares about you. But it's not that easy. You can set up shop and play house, but it's going to get harder, Remy. Things are going to happen and people are going to try and tear you apart."

She ends with a sigh and I can hear some sadness in her voice. I thought she got over Peter months ago, but I guess she has a better poker face than I give her credit for.

I'm not sure what to say to that, especially when she's being so open, but it makes sense to be honest. I will never let anyone tear Rogue and I apart. "She's worth it though. I won't give her up, even if dat does happen."

"Remy," she sighs and sets down her fork as well, "You're in love with her. It's written all across your face, and I want you to be happy. It's just, I'd hate to imagine you stuck with you family on one side and your lover on the other."

The idea of my family on one side and my lover's on another is a surprisingly familiar concept to me. Rolling my eyes is my knee jerk reaction, but I avoid it. The Black Cat has no idea about the life I grew up with, and I have no desire to be rude to someone who has always had my back.

"Felicia," I take a moment to gather my words, wanting to get them right, "Tank yo, really, and I understand where yo coming from, but dis girl? I'm not gonna let her go. I'm gonna do my best to shield her from that part o' my life. But if she wants to be de super hero? Den dat's what she gets. She deserves everyting she wants, and I'm gonna be dere for all o' dat."

Her face looks thoughtful, but she accepts my words, "Things will get harder."

"I know."

Which I do. I didn't think that loving Rogue was going to be easy, not with the opposite lives we live, but I can't think of a single thing more worth it.

She reaches out, and places her hand over mine, resting on the surface of the kitchen table, and squeezes gently. She gives me a small smile, "I just care about you, and I don't want you to get hurt."

I hold her hand tightly, while using my opposite one to bring my fork back up to my mouth. Her pie really is delicious.

She gives me a tight smile, but I can still see the worry in her eyes.

"I know, Hardy, I know," I nod, "But it'll be okay. Yo don' have to worry bout me."

Sitting at the kitchen table with Felicia feels like a bit of a world's colliding moment, as the last time I was alone with her was ages ago, before I bought this house, before I knew that I could have Rogue. It's a companionable silence that we share, and I appreciate her as a colleague and, more importantly, a friend.

It's at that moment that I hear the side door open, and the woman in question steps in to the kitchen.

"Swamp Rat, I'm home!" Rogue calls out as she enters, not realizing that there's no need to shout. The side door leads from the garage right into the edge of the kitchen and we're seated at the table, only a few yards away. "Hey, whose car is outside?"

My eyes are drawn to her as she kicks the door closed with her foot, heavy boots still on her feet. She's wearing her favorite pair of leather motorcycle pants, and her leather jacket is haphazardly hanging off of one arm, the other arm all ready out.

I watch as she turns to see us, her eyes immediately focus on our clasped hands. Her eyes narrow slightly, and I can see a touch of anger there.

"Felicia?" She looks a bit confused as my friend releases my hand, "From the Halloween party?"

I can tell that my lover is about to say something else; I can see her lips pull pack slighty, and the tension across her forehead. Her eyes are still slightly narrowed, and her mouth dips into a bit of a frown.

And then, as quickly as the tension appeared, it dissolves. Her eyes widen as the lock onto the pie plate at the far end of the table. Her mouth turns into a wide smile and I can see her eyes glitter with excitement, "Oooooh, and what is this?"

"Felicia," I nod in her direction, "Brought over pecan pie."

"Well look at that," Rogue is all ready at the kitchen cabinet removing a plate. She looks at our guests and directs the next question to her, "Do yah mind?"

"Of course not," Felicia shakes her head, but it seems like a bit of a formality, seeing as Rogue all ready brought the knife to the pie before she answered.

I watch as Rogue cuts herself a surprisingly small piece and places it on the plate she had just pulled out. Mover lover has the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen, and it surprises me to see her with such an average sized piece.

She waltzes over to me, and places a kiss on top of my messy hair, "Swamp rat, Ah'm gonna go upstairs to change." She directs her attention to our guest, and grins at her. Literally, she's full on beaming, "Felicia, so nice to see you again! Come by any time."

Obviously, all traces of resentment are gone. Hey, the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach, right? Especially with home made baked goods.

Catching me off guard, although I'm starting to think I should've have expected it, Rogue leaves the her small piece of pie on the table, and lifts up the nearly full pie tin, and proceeds to carry it upstairs with her.

My eyes are glued to her finely shaped backside as she exits the room.

I turn back to Felicia and nod once more, a smile tugging at the edge of my lips, "She's worth it."

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See! All you _This is Halloween_ readers, Felicia wasn't exactly jealous! She was just worried! How sweet!

Review = Love


	2. Chapter 2 - Dodge Charger

Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

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**Domestic Bliss  
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**Chapter 2 - Dodge Charger**

I watch as she looks at me all curiously. I know she's trying to hide it, but she can't. Her excitement is shining through her expression easily. I'm not surprised; Rogue loves presents like a fat kid loves birthday cake.

We both know that she's opened all the gifts her friends brought over, and she's appreciated them all. But, like an addict in search of another hit, her eyes, trying to be inconspicuous, slowly slide towards me.

"Remy?" I could wrap myself up in that accent of hers, all honey dipped and southern. The way she says my name, with those little red lips pursing out slightly, gets me every time and I'm reminded of the things I could do to her if our house wasn't full of guests.

"Hmm?" I reply lazily as she approaches me, where I've been leaning against the far wall of the living room, a great spot to watch over her as she sat on the couch opening gifts from her friends.

My arm automatically drops around her shoulder as she sidles up to me, slightly pressing her body into mine so I can feel the curve of her breast again my body.

Don't be fooled by the innocent act, that little vixen knows exactly what she's doing.

"I know yah mentioned yah had a gift for meh too?"

I'm about to tell her that I have no such thing, but she smiles at me looking happy and warm and I know it'll be my undoing.

I outstretch my arm towards the kitchen, "'O course, chere. 'S waitin' fo' yo' in de garage."

Her eyebrows shoot up and I know she's wondering how I got something into the garage without her knowing. I can tell she wants to say something about it, but I just give her a smirk of my own.

The excitement is clearly too much for her, because she quickly turns away from me and rushes towards the garage. I watch the parade follow behind her. Clearly, Kitty, Jubilee, Amara, Kurt, Tabby, and the rest are just as curious.

Pete shrugs in a "what the hell" motion and I gave him a small smile before following the stampede through my kitchen.

I can barley see around the group hovering in my doorframe, but I hear Rogue as she flips on the light and squeals.

Everyone steps further into the garage, including myself, and I watch as she scurries excitedly to the car parked near her workbench.

Her eyes are wide as her head swivels back to me, "Is this-"

I cut her off, "A '68 Dodge Charger? Oui."

She squeals again and moves around to the driver's side, no doubt to pop the hood.

"Like, this is her present?" I watch Kitty pull a face as she looks on skeptically, "Why didn't you just buy her a new car? This one is all dirty and rusty."

That's not all. I'm pretty sure one of the door handles fell off as I had it towed here.

"And," Rogue pulls her head away from what's under the hood with all the happiness of a child on Christmas, "The engine is completely destroyed!"

I can't help but laugh. If she can tell that it's that bad from just a quick glance, then maybe I did better than I thought. "And…" I pause dramatically as its obvious that she's hanging on my words, "All parts are original t' dat piece o' shit."

My statement makes her happy, and she quickly throws her arms around my neck, clearly too happy to even worry about our PDA in front of her family. She kisses me hard on the mouth and I fight to keep my hands safely on her waist.

"It's got a hell o' a lotta rust damage." I whisper in her ear as her body presses against mine.

"Ah know!" She responds, completely gleeful.

"Rogue," Tabby looks at my girlfriend like she's crazy as she separates from me, "I know that rebuilding cars is 'your thing.' But that thing looks like crap."

Rogue shrugs, unfazed, "Not for long!"

I watch as she leads her friend over to the Charger. She's pointing out things and mentioning things and they're responding, but I'm not listening to any of it. All I'm doing is watching her legs in those short denim shorts. Her creamy skin is practically begging me to touch it. She bends ever so slightly at the waist to point at something under the hood, and I can't tear my eyes away from that tight, perky ass.

Again, the things I could do to her if we didn't have her family over.

I start picturing myself taking her, as she's bent over the hood of the Charger in nothing but her cowboy boots and I have to stop myself. My swim trunks are loose, but not loose enough to hide anything more than the semi-hard on that I all ready have.

I hear Kurt say something about the last one in the pool being a rotten egg. He immediately disappears, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and a slightly unpleasant sulfur smell.

I love Rogue, but her family makes me feel old as hell.

Everyone stampedes back to the house, no doubt to get to the back yard, and then to the pool house. Rogue is at the tail end of the line, and I watch, curiously, as she makes it to the door and shuts it.

As she turns to face me, I can't stop the smirk on my face.

I know that look.

That's my favorite look.

I stop worrying about my semi, as I'm pretty sure that's where all my blood is now heading.

She saunters over to me, that little sway in her hips giving away how sexy she really is. I try to tear my eyes from her hips, but I can't seem to get them higher than her breasts.

"Remy," she steps into my body, and those perfect knockers are now pressed against my chest.

"M takin' it dat yo' like de car, hein?" I place my hands on her shoulders, and then move them so I can run them down the side of her soft body, making sure that my thumbs rub the under curve of her tits. All she's got under her thin shirt is her bikini top, and it makes it even easier to feel her curves.

My hands stop when I get to her ass, and I squeeze, loving the feel of every part of her body. Keeping my hands planted where they are on each denim-covered cheek, I pull her body towards mine. I'm sure she all ready knows I'm ready for action, but the caveman in me likes to make her well aware of my erection.

As much as I'd like to bend her over the Charger, my woman gives me that sultry smile and I know that she's in control.

"Ah love the car," she keeps her body pressed against mine, and meets my lips with hers. Her mouth is open and I take the opportunity to rub my tongue against hers before she pulls back. She stops and licks her lips, "And Ah love yah for giving it to me."

Note: there are lots of things I'd like to "give her" right now, specifically anal.

"Mmhm," I hum some kind of acknowledgement as my lips make their way to her neck. Knowing not to suck, as apparently she was embarrassed about marks last time (hickies on her neck bother her, but rope burns around her wrists don't? I will never completely understand this woman), I move my lips to the sensitive spot of her collarbone and nip lightly, enjoying the little whimper she makes immediately in response.

Trust me, I know every sweet spot on her body.

She steps away from my body slightly, and before I can question her, she's grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the car.

Oh great. I'm as hard as a rock, and all she wants to do is show me the car I've all ready seen? Come on.

"Chere," I know there's a slight annoyance in my voice, and maybe it should bother me, but it doesn't. Her family has been here all day, those dumb girls are staying the night for a "slumber party" - whatever the hell that is - and we haven't been alone since last night. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about that car.

I mean, it's not like we haven't had quickies in the garage before. Riding her in the garage is one of my favorite things to do. I appreciate the bit of irony in it. (Same goes for diving into her in the pool.)

I briefly look at her hand holding mine and smile; Such small, but strong, perfect hands.

She's using her opposite hand to open the back passenger door. The car makes an ugly groan as the hinges protest and I think Rogue smiles even bigger.

She pulls me to her body, a cheeky grin on her face, before unwinding our hands. She places both hands on my shoulder to pull herself up a bit, all on the tips of her toes. Helping to compensate for our height difference, I tilt my head downwards.

I'm rewarded with her red lips at my ear. "After yah," her voice is all breathy and when she sighs, I can fell the warm air on my cheek.

What the hell, right? I duck my head down to climb into the back seat of the car and move to the far side of the seat, watching her crawl in after me.

She leaves the door open, but folds her legs under her body and turns, so she's facing me in the opposite seat.

She places a hand on my thigh and pats it once, "Move your leg. Put it across the seat so you're facing me. And take off your shirt."

Mon Dieu, I love it when she gets bossy. And let's be honest, judging by the little lift of her lips and that slight narrowing of her eyes, I have a pretty good idea where this is going.

And I like it.

With one leg stretched out across the back of the seat, and the other bent at the knee and hanging over the seat's edge, my body is completely facing her. I quickly move my hands to the hem if my pink t-shirt and pull it over my head, letting it land somewhere on the floor of the car. I start to say something, but the words die as she wastes no time in moving forward.

Her lips are on mine and they feel blisteringly hot. I feel a hand run down my naked chest. She touches my pectorals, teasingly runs her fingertips over a nipple, before her hand moves lower. It takes less than a second for me to feel her hands at the waistband of my swim trunks. Her kisses get a little sloppy as she starts to untie them. Rogue has never been good at multitasking.

I let out a groan as she gets the lacing undone. The best part about swimwear is that there's nothing underneath, and she quickly works her hand in there to fist it tightly around my hardness. She gives it a few quick tugs, the way I like, and my body responds to the roughness there, making my skin feel hot.

She's got the whole velcro fly of my shorts undone now, and she pulls my erection out, not bothering to push the rest of my trunks aside.

I watch, feeling hot, with precum all ready on the tip of my dick.

"Merde," I hiss out the curse and let my eyes close and head fall back against the car window behind me.

With one quick bob of her head, she takes me in her mouth.

Part of me wants to appreciate that she's aiming to be quick. Typically, she spends a bit more time, but I think we both know we've got a house full of people.

I don't bother to open my eyes, but I hear my breath hiss out between my teeth as my hands make their way to the back of her head. I rest them there, fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth.

I groan as I feel a hand wrap around the base of my shaft. Although we've been working on it, she can only fit about half of me in her mouth before gagging. That's not the hottest thing in the world, but I appreciate my girl's determination.

Her head pulls back slightly and I feel her lick the tip. It causes me to cry out and I momentarily forget that it's the middle of her birthday party.

"Rogue," I complain as my hands on her head are urging that perfectly round mouth back completely around me. I open my eyes to look down, to look back at her.

Tease.

I hear a giggle before her mouth plunges back down on me, her hand wrapping around the base of the shaft and continue the movements that her lips can't reach.

She starts sucking hard and I know I'm not going to last very long. Normally, I would say I'm not so quick, I mean, give me some credit. But watching her breasts in that bikini top has been like a few hours of foreplay.

I thrust my hips up slightly, matching her rhythm as she sucks me harder. I feel her tongue swirl around me and it's my undoing.

"Chere, 'M gonna-" Rogue likes to be warned in advance. After one particularly messy and uncomfortable (for both of us) experience, I've leaned to give her a head's up. Doesn't bother me at all, there's a lot of things I would do to get a blowjob from her.

I hear myself groan and curse and I let my head fall back against the window behind me again as I come into her mouth. The orgasm feels amazing and I feel the high throughout my whole body.

Shit.

I don't move for a minute, feeling the same mix of lethargy and euphoria that I always do after I get off. My limbs feel unsteady, and my heart is still beating too quickly.

I feel a hand on me, and I open my eyes to see Rogue, none too delicately trying to stuff my junk back into my shorts.

"I got it," I wave one of my hands at hers until she removes it and then I get my shorts back on properly, lacing them as well. I knot them at the top.

I watch as She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, then reaches down to grab my shirt. She then wipes her hand on my shirt.

"Really?" I lift an eyebrow incredulously at her and try to sound annoyed. The truth is, I feel way too relaxed to be upset.

She smiled impishly at me, "Didn't yah hear, Cajun?"

Huh? I strain my ears a minute to make sure I didn't miss anything, and to especially make sure we didn't get caught. "Hear what, Chere?"

I watch her breasts through her tight shirt as she shimmies backwards out the door of the car.

"Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!"

I roll my eyes as she quickly heads toward the door, laughing out loud to herself.

"Happy birthday, Rogey! And thanks fo' de blow job!" I call after her playfully, because let's be honest: I am in no mood to hurry after her. I'm taking my time. Hey, I deserve it.

The door to the house closes behind her, and I slowly make my way out of the back seat. I gently close the door to the Charger, because I'm slightly worried it could fall off. This car really isn't in good shape.

Damn, I feel good.

I head into the house, switching off the lights in the garage, and take my time. I'm in no rush.

I cross the kitchen and look through the glass of the back door to see my girl and her friends making a mess of the pool deck. Most of them have jumped into the in-ground pool or are lounging in the chairs around it, but I can see through the pool house windows. Bobby and Kurt appear to being doing something obnoxious, and freezing the half of the pool that's in-doors.

Not that I've made a concentrated effort to make sure the water on either side of the pool is closely temperature controlled or anything.

I let go of the bit of annoyance as I see Rogue walk along the side of the pool, handing out drinks to her friends. She's still got those tiny denim shorts on, but she's removed her shirt, and I get to enjoy the view of her in that little bikini top. There's probably no way that she should be wearing it - her breasts are enormous and those little triangle shaped pieces of fabric cannot be enough to support her - but I look her up and down and enjoy the view anyway.

I grab a bottle of beer out of the fridge before heading outside… On second thought, I grab a second bottle as well. I had the pool put in at the back end of the property about two months after we moved in. I know that Rogue missed the pool she had at her previous home, and I missed lap swimming in place of other cardio workouts. I had the pool house built first, so that the pool could be partially indoors, and the larger side could be outdoors. The pool is large enough that even the indoor side can be used for laps.

Her friends are laughing and taking turns throwing each other in the pool. I turn to head out to the back patio, but I stop by the pool house first to grab a towel.

Rogue is at the bar with Kitty, Jean, and Jubilee. She smiles at me as I pass her, and I pause to lean forward and kiss her temple. I feel her hard grasp my bicep as I do so, and I try to ignore the heat that radiates from it.

I head toward the far end of the patio where Pete is sitting comfortably, sunglasses resting on his face, as he shakes his head at Bobby. Ray is turning between Bobby and Pete, clearly waiting for an answer. I recognize the patient look on his face, and can only guess what those two and Jamie are bugging him with this time.

I take the open seat next to Piotr and had him the second bottle of beer, before twisting off the cap on my own. He nods in thanks and looks happy to have his own distraction.

"Remy," Bobby directly his attention to me before I can barely take my first swig. He has a rueful expression on his face, that he directs towards Pete, before turning back to me with a smirk. "You know women."

His voice is insinuating something, and again, it makes me feel old as hell. Still I nod because, even though he's not asking a question, it's true. "Oui."

"So," his eyes grow at the same time his smile does, "What's the sexiest thing you can think of?"

"Consent." Obviously I don't know where this conversation was headed before I sit down, but the question was a no brainer.

Bobby's grin fades a bit and his eyes look a bit more flat, "That's not what I meant."

"It's de truth," I shrug.

"And I all ready knew that anyway," he mutters, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

I watch his head turn toward the opposite direction to where my lady is standing with her girlfriends. Jubilee and Kitty are behind the bar, Jean is sitting on one of the bar stools on the side closest to us, a towel around her waist, with Rogue next to her.

Rogue, on the other hand, has lost her shorts at some point, leaving her in that little yellow and green bikini. Her elbows are on the bar, as she leans against it, talking animatedly with the other girls. Slightly bent at the waist so she can lean on the bar, leaves a delicate little dip in her back that makes her ass look great.

I know she got waxed last week, leaving everything smooth, and I enjoy the parts of her not covered by her bikini bottoms. I can easily picture her without the bottoms. My woman has the most perfect wide hips.

I look back at Bobby, his gaze still directed at Rogue, and I'm not sure if I like the way he's looking her up and down. At least Ray has the decency not to look so obvious about it.

"I mean, look at Rogue," he continues, and since I all ready looked at her, I keep my eyes on him and cock an eyebrow, "She keeps it tight."

That she does, but still, "Where's dis goin', Bobby?"

"She's hot, right? I mean, you've gotta appreciate that your girlfriend has a body like that?"

I give a side long glance at Pete, and he shrugs his shoulders as if to tell me, "see what I have to deal with?".

"Bobby," I look over my shoulder one more time, focusing on all the skin my woman is showing.

Damn, she looks good.

I have a brief flash back to the back seat of her new car, but push it aside as I turn back to the three sets of eyes that are focused on me, "Yo don' get it. Rogue? Oui, she is de sexiest ting dis Cajun has ever seen."

But if Bobby thinks that sex appeal is what makes a woman? I shake my head, and continue, "But it's not just her perfect ass or her fantastic breasts dat make her sexy. Believe it or not, most women are mo den just a pair o' boobs. But her 'keepin it tight'? Her body isn't skinny or fat, she's fit. She has muscles. She's strong. And dat's what it sexy. Not dat she has a tiny waist. Strength is what's sexy. Dat fit body o' hers? It tells me she's been working out, dat she's strong, dat she's a kick-ass woman who can handle anyting. Noting is sexier than knowin' yo woman can take care of herself."

I pause and take a long swig from the bottle in my hand, "Noting makes me want her mo', den knowin' I don't have to worry bout her when I'm gone, den knowin' dat whatever happens? She can have my back jus as much as I have hers."

Bobby blinks at me twice, clearly trying to process all that I just told him.

And, of course, Ray takes this moment to speak up. He looks at Bobby, before looking at me with wide eyes, "But, I mean, you'd still prefer to have a girl that looks good naked, right?"

I feel Piotr slap me on the back as he actually stifles a laugh. "You tried, my friend."

"Some help yo are." I give him a flat look before he pats my shoulder and starts walking toward his own girlfriend.

Ray, Bobby, and Jamie, on the other hand, and still staring at me wide-eyed and waiting for an answer.

I roll my eyes, and get up to follow Pete.

I am too old for this.

* * *

Oh, Remy! You're so old! Just kidding!

I had a super long day today, please cheer me up with reviews :-D

Reviews = Love


	3. Chapter 3 - Snow Birds

Special shout out to Warrior Princess, who wisely mentioned to me that Dodge Chargers didn't have a back buck seat. She is amazing for pointing that out. Totally my bad on this one.

A short chapter this time, and Remy is only a tiny bit sexist in the beginning. This one runs parallel to _Flying South_ so you may want to read it for reference.

* * *

**Domestic Bliss**

**Chapter 3 - Snow Birds**

I loosen the tie at my neck. These Guild events are getting a bit ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, my Guild and I love to party, and the celebrations will continue well into the wee hours of the morning, but that doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy wearing a tie.

Heaven knows why on earth Jean Luc instituted the formal dress code a while back.

Well, actually… I look around at the restaurant we've booked for the party, and seeing the general drunkenness, I guess I get it. We look good even if we're wasted (I look good at all times, though).

I grab my coat off the rack and I hear Emil call out my name (albeit, a drunk slurred version of it). Waving the package of cigarettes at him that I just removed from my coat pocket, he nods and takes another drink from one of the scantily clad cocktail waitresses.

I take a moment to admire the view as the waitress bends downward and places two more drinks on the table near some other members of my extended family. Whoever came up with that uniform was a genius. I watch the tight little black hot pants ride up slightly over her red fishnets before she straightens her stance. She turns towards me and catches my eye. I wink at her and smirk before making my way to the door.

She's got a nice body, and she's brunette.

I love brunettes.

I hurry outside before anyone else can catch me. After the next round of shots, they won't even notice I'm gone.

I may or may not have a long day a head of me tomorrow… haven't decided yet.

I have a room in the Guild Mansion on the outskirts of New Orleans, but I also keep a smaller apartment in the heart of the city. It's helpful for a number of reasons, including walking distance from the bars. I start walking in that direction, having made the smart choice to not drive. I'm assuming its because its Christmas Eve, but there's barely anyone else on the street.

Heading towards my place, I pass my favorite bar. It's an unfortunate consequence of my night that I haven't had a lot to drink. I could do with one more before I make it back.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm expecting the place to be empty. I mean, who visits a bar on Christmas Eve? I shrug to myself and reach for the door handle, letting myself in.

Shit.

Surprise doesn't even start to cover it. It doesn't matter that I've just walked in and that she's at the complete other end of the bar. I'd know those white stripes anywhere.

I'd know that perfect 10 body anywhere.

Mon Dieu.

It doesn't even matter that she's looking down at her phone, she's bringing a glass up to her lips. Those lips make me hunger for them as they meet the glass edge of her champagne flute.

Hot damn.

I can feel my nerve endings come alive as my heart rate picks up just from looking at her.

Who, you ask? Anna Marie Howlett. If you don't recognize that name, you might know her by Rogue.

What is she to me?

Well, ex-girlfriend doesn't explain the half of it. I'll just leave it at this: she's the best I've ever had.

In every way.

In every thing.

I can't tell you the last time I saw her. It's been a while - at least a year - but she still looks so good. Her hair is done up in some sexy kind of pony tail and those white streaks are framing her face and looking as good as I'd ever seen it.

I'm trying to make my mind up what to do - and trust me, it's pretty difficult because I think I'm thinking with a very different head. She hasn't even noticed me, sitting at the bar and staring at her phone. I sit down at the stool next to her, before I notice that I'm walking that way.

Rogue, being Rogue, doesn't even look my way as I brush my arm against hers. That's who she is though. If she doesn't want to give you the time of day, she won't, and there's nothing you can do to change that.

She is one stubborn son of a bitch, and I love her for it.

I know she wants me though. If the things she let me do to her a year ago are any indication, then she most definitely wants me.

And good for her, because tonight, I plan on letting her have me.

I promise you this right now: that woman is not going to be able to walk when I'm done with her.

I reach for her drink, watching her turn towards me with a look of outrage on her face.

I finish the drink and motion to the barkeep for two more.

It takes no time at all for that look to morph into a smile, even though I know she's trying to fight it.

The quick grin on her face just about stops my heart.

Shit.

"Well, well, well," I can't seem to look away, and my eyes find themselves focused on her lips. Knowing what those lips are good for, I have a brief thought of her on her knees. I hold back a smirk as I notice her lean towards my body slightly as I start to speak to her. Oh, she wants this all right.

I reach out, my gloves still on, and tuck that tempting little white streak behind one ear, "Wat do we have 'ere? Un little sno bird, flyin' sout fo de winter?"

She's as beautiful as ever, and happy to see me which is definite plus. I ignore it, but for a second I can feel my heart ache at the thought that I once let her go. My mind wants to question if choosing Louisiana over her was the right thing to do, but I push that thought away.

It would be inappropriate to ask, but at this moment, I want everything from her.

She's smiling and I see her look over my body. In turn, I do the same. I let my eyes roam over her curves, her breasts, her bare hands. Everything about her is wrapped up into this sexy little package - a sexy little package that I want to unwrap with my teeth.

It takes me back, years ago, right after her sophomore year of college. When I got to feel her bare skin for the first time.

I see her start to shrug out of her coat, and of course I move behind her body to help. I am not missing any opportunity to touch her. It's been a year and my fingers are itching to touch her skin, her body. I can't deny myself that. My hands can feel her body heat in the leather and I want it to burn itself into my skin.

I settled for taking her back to my place, and it was just like old times. Sex with her is as perfect as I can imagine, but so much better than anyone else I've been with.

I forgot what she does to me, how she makes me want her so badly that I can't even think, how the curves and cuts in her body are so beautiful that I can barely remember my name.

I don't know what it is, but I just can't help myself around that little vixen.

She's laughing and smiling and it takes me back to the past we used to share. I know you're wondering how two people who weren't 'together' were able to fall back into something from a long time ago? Well, I think Roguey and me never fell out of anything.

That's not to say that I didn't see other people. Because I did, sometimes two or three at a time. I love women and there's no way I was willing to give up that vice, especially not with me in Louisiana and Rogue in New York.

Not that I didn't think of her when we were apart, I did. Mostly when I was in hotel rooms for work with time and energy to burn, and I found myself jerking off with leather gloves on trying to remember our early days together.

That's when you know you have a problem, right? When your actual fantasies aren't as good as the real thing? When the girl you want is so right for you that you can't even imagine an 'improved' version?

Yeah, I knew I had a problem and it was months before that little Christmas meeting.

I guess, when it comes to Rogue, I was never able to fully get her out of my system.

We spend most of the night reacquainting ourselves with each other's bodies. Hers is still deceptively soft, all that smooth skin hiding her strong muscles.

Morning comes, and I make her breakfast, in the same way I used to. I can hear the shower running while I flip pancakes on the griddle.

I plate the food and looking down at it, I can only think of one thing . . .

I can't live without her.

I can't let her leave.


	4. Chapter 4 - Happy Birthday

**Domestic Bliss**

**Chapter 4 - Happy Birthday**

I shut the garage door behind me and cut the engine on my bike, parking it next to the other two in the garage.

Rogue's bike isn't here, which means she all ready left for work. It's kind of a bummer; I was hoping to see her.

After spending 16 hours uncomfortably stuffed in someone's heating vent, I was looking forward to a certain friendly face when I got home (or at least a friendly blowjob). Not to mention that I haven't seen her for a week and half. (It's been a busy week at the office, so to say.)

Obviously, I don't call or text her to let her know I'm on my way home. This time I gave her a date, which I don't always do. If something happened, which it never will, she'd have plausible deniability and all that. Giving her an ETA on my arrivals would clearly give her information she shouldn't have. I don't try to keep my business life Completely separate from hers, but I'm certainly not going to put her in a situation that could make her uncomfortable.

I mean, she moonlights as a damn super hero for goodness sake. I am Not messing that up.

Placing my helmet on the peg on the garage wall, I let myself into the house. Rogue forgot to arm the alarm system so I do that as well, typing a few numbers (her measurements) into the retrofitted unit on the wall. It's not so much an alarm system as a way to keep the security cameras up and running. It's doesn't contact the authorities or anything. The only person it alerts is me.

I suppose you could say it's a point of pride.

I mean, really, I could not have any of my family visit without at least a few pressure sensitive buried trip wires or infrared lasers. It would be embarrassing if they could show up by just walking to the door and knocking. I'd be the laughing stock of the Christmas party, for sure.

And, obviously, I'm much too smooth for anyone to laugh at me.

I look around the kitchen to see a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and a couple pair of shoes lying near the back door. There's a half full cup of juice on the table, and well as what looks like my unfinished beer that Rogue said she'd finish after I left. On the opposite side of the kitchen table is one of her shop towels, with a partially disassembled two-cycle engine on it.

…I mean, why give her a work shop if she can just use the kitchen table?

Also, what do we even own that uses a two cycle engine? Leaf blowers, weed eaters? Nope. I hire out all our landscaping work. I'm not home enough and, let's be honest, Rogue's idea of pruning the rose brush is taking a chainsaw to it.

Ah, chainsaw. Makes sense. Although I doubt it needed to be taken apart in the kitchen.

I haven't figured out if my cleaning ladies love or hate her. On one hand, our house is a perpetual pigsty, but on the other hand, they're making good money.

I pay the cleaning service more now than I did when I was living on my own, and having seven pairs of sheets and seven women's outfits laundered a week. If you count the towels and throw blankets, it was a lot of laundry.

I grab the cup off of the table and proceed to drop it in the dishwasher before I head upstairs. Of course, the dishwasher is full (explains the sink full of dishes), but at least everything in it is clean.

Why the silverware tray includes three different crescent wrenches, I have no idea, but some things are better not to question.

I strip of my dusty, black long sleeve shirt as I round the kitchen and head up the stairs to our master bedroom. On the middle of the staircase, I see a discarded pair of tiny, lace panties. They're black. My favorite.

Not even questioning it, I pick them up, fisting them hard in my hand as I picture my woman dressed up in lingerie. My tongue is all ready wetting my lips as I find a discarded matching bra at the top of the stairs. I hear myself groan, knowing that I'm half hard and Rogue isn't here to help me with that problem.

The black stockings tossed haphazardly on the landing are nearly my undoing as I pick those up too. She's diabolical, that one. This isn't a case of my girlfriend being a slob, it's a case of her trying to put certain images in my head.

And it's certainly working.

I finally make it into our bedroom, one hand grasping my shirt and her delicates, the other slowly palming at my erection over my black pants.

I groan out loud, a bit frustrated, but I can't help the smirk that makes it's way to my face. I'll play the game. If my woman wants me all keyed up when she gets home, then that's exactly what she'll get.

I drop her discarded delicates onto the bed, figuring I can jerk off on them later.

Stripping out of my socks, pants, and boxer briefs, I stuff all my clothes into the hamper, and heads towards the connected bathroom.

I roll my head to either side and hear and feel a semi-uncomfortable pop in my neck. I should probably take time to stretch out at some point, holding one position for 16 hours isn't good for anyone, and I can't imaging having my left shoulder awkwardly twisted towards my face helped at all.

Either way: shower first. You'd think people would get their vents cleaned out more often. It was disgusting. Seriously, it's a house, not a barn.

I don't bother to flip the light switch. Our bathroom has a large window over the soaking tub that faces the back end of our property. Without any nosey neighbors (or neighbors in general), we leave the south facing windows open nearly all the time. The natural light is great, as is having your girlfriend sit on the edge of the tub, naked, wanting, and bathed in moonlight, while you bury your face between her legs.

The first thing I notice is the writing on the mirror. It's purple, obviously the shade my lover used to favor. She doesn't wear it so much anymore, but there have been a few moments she's had it on (along with matching goth outfits; you'd have to see it to believe it), mostly times I wanted her to play the high school student begging her devilishly handsome Cajun teacher not to give her detention.

All I'm saying is that there is just something about watching purple painted lips wrap themselves around your dick.

Ritz. 7:00

Room 313.

Happy birthday, lover.

Next to her script is a clear lip print; she obviously kissed the mirror, lips all freshly painted.

I press my hand again the mirror, my thumb resting over where her lips had been.

The 'lover' gives me pause. It's not a term she uses for me often, or nearly ever. I think my commitment-phobic girlfriend can't handle all the intimacy wrapped up in that word. Granted, it's a more than accurate term, and it's what I use most often to describe her, but she hesitates.

My thumb smudges the perfect imprint of her lips, as I step away from the mirror and head to the shower.

The water is hot and it feels good against my tired body.

Happy Birthday. What's that about? Technically, I have no idea what day my birthday is. There's a fake date on my fake license and fake birth certificate, but they don't mean anything to me. Rogue does her best to celebrate that day if we happen to be together, and I guess here we are again.

Not like I'm going to turn down a chance to celebrate with my woman. Birthday blowjobs are a given, and I'm not complaining.

I tilt my head down, letting the hot water run over the tight muscles at the back of my neck. The heat helps a bit, but not as much as I'd like.

Grabbing my container of body wash, I proceed to scrub the layers of who-knows-what and sweat off of my body. I repeat with my shampoo.

I guess it's time for a haircut. It's kind of getting ridiculous. I rinse my hair, feeling the tips brush my shoulders. I prefer it on the shorter side, by Rogue likes it longer so I let it grow. Typically, whenever it got past my chin, I knew it was time to cut it. That gave Rogue just a bit to run her fingers through. Now? Well, as Rogue's good friend Kitty would describe it, I look like I should be posing for the cover of some romance novel.

Despite the fact I had it tied back tightly today, I'm sure it got just as disgusting as the rest of my body, which is even more reason to chop it off…

But, I guess I'm just finding that I like to have my hair pulled as much as she does.

I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water relax my muscles and rinse the grim off of my worn-out body.

I have a few hours before I have to meet my woman, and I'm guessing I should take a nap first.

I have a feeling that I'll be in for a long night.


	5. Chapter 5 - Endgame

**Domestic Bliss - Chapter 5 **

**Endgame**

I place the navy and pink plaid fabric around my neck, my fingers deftly folding the flat sides into the bow tie shape. I grasp either sides of the bow and tilt it slightly so that it no longer looks crooked. I flip my collar of my pale pink shirt back down and tuck the bottom of it into my gray dress pants.

I look into the full length mirror hanging from our open closet door, and give myself a once over. My hair is slightly damp from the shower and twisted up into a small, sloppy 'man bun' (as my lady calls it) at the top back of my head. My face is freshly shaved, my shirt is buttoned and tucked in, and my pants are tailored tight to my body, just slightly pulling across my thighs. Hopefully my lover will notice.

I reach for the hanger that holds the gray jacket that matches my pants and slide it onto my shoulders.

"Mah, mah, mah," I turn as I see my woman step out of the bathroom we share, nearly fully dressed and ready to go, "Don't yah look handsome?"

She approaches me, and I tilt my head down to kiss her cheek. As my lips brush her soft skin, I feel her squeeze my ass. "Chere," I look her up and down, not bothering to hide the hunger in my eyes, "Yo' look as beautiful as ever."

And I mean it, this one takes my breath away. She is gorgeous.

She's wearing a dark purple dress, that I swear I've seen before but can't remember, and it fits her body like a glove. It's stops mid thigh, giving me a very nice view of one of her best assets, those perfectly sculpted creamy white legs. I drag my eyes away from those thighs, following the dress upward around her hips, past her breasts, to the high collar that goes nearly up to her chin.

Aware of her eyes on me, she twirls slowly and I take in every inch of her delectable body. The high collar of her dress contrasts to the back of it, where it dips down to the small of her back, leaving me staring at her naked shoulder blades and thinking about running my tongue over them. The dress covers her ass completely, but it's tight enough that I can enjoy the silhouette of her round curves.

As she finishes her turn and her eyes meet mine again, I notice that I'm licking my lips, "Mon amour, yo are stunning."

As if seeing the heat in my eyes, she winks at me before heading back into the bathroom, "Just wanted tah make sure that mah arm candy could keep up with meh in this dress."

I smirk, but follow her towards the bathroom, and lean against the doorframe, watching with interest as she starts pulling a brush through her long hair.

As if I'm going to be offended by her referring to me as little more than a trophy husband. I don't care. I will be whatever she wants. I will be everything.

"So," my eyes drag themselves up and down her legs as she leans slightly over the counter, still messing with her hair, "Does little Kitty have any idea about de surprise?"

"Ha!" Rogue lets out a bit of an unladylike snort and shakes her head. She gives me a sideways glance as she pins her hair at the top of her head. She's left her long hair down, and it's curling slightly at the ends, but she's pinned my favorite white streaks back so that they're not hanging in her face. "Does Kitty have any idea that Piotr rented out the whole restaurant so that after he proposes, all her friends and family can jump out and surprise her? No, Remy, she has no idea."

I smirk at the look on her face, as if my question was so ludicrous.

"it's hard to believe, but I have t' say dat it's about time. De big guy has been worrying bout dis night fo weeks."

She grins at me as she starts putting some kind of make up around her eyes, "Kitty is gonna freak out. And then she's gonna cry."

Obviously, I give Rogue the most skeptical look I can, "Kitty is gonna be de one cryin'? Chere, we both know dat yo might want to go easy on de makeup because you are gonna be cryin' yo eyes out."

She looks at me indignantly and huffs, "Ah am not!"

Yeah, right. And I'm the Wolverine.

I watch as she continues to primp in front of the mirror. The days of her wearing lots of makeup have passed, so I'm always fascinated when she does and all the work she puts into it.

My eyes follow down the view of her back, enjoying the view of all that pale skin. That has been an advantage of moving in together; the sex has been amazing.

I look lower and keep my gaze firmly focused on her ass. It really does look great in that dress and if I have to spend the evening with all of her family, I'm glad that I'll have something to keep me entertained. I could enjoy that view for days.

It would take less than two seconds to pull the hem of her dress up to her waist, slide her panties down, and take her as she bends over the bathroom counter. She's all ready leaning towards the mirror, in prime position. It would be nothing to strip her right here. I could grab her hips instead of her hair, and then she'd still be ready in time to leave.

She's talking at me again and I haven't been listening.

I look at the mirror and see her reflection making eye contact with me, "What was dat?"

She rolls her eyes a bit, but continues to put on make up as she talks to me, "Are yah surprised that Piotr is gonna propose?"

I shrug, not especially. Pete mentioned the idea to me a few months ago, wondering what I thought. I'm not going to stand in the way of his happiness, so I told him to do what he felt was right. "Non, he's been tinkin bout it for a while."

"Do yah ever think about getting married?"

The question makes me pause and I stare at my woman critically. She's so focused on the stuff she's painting around her eyes, that I doubt she's doing more than just making conversation. Any other time - and there have been many - that I've heard that question from a woman, it has been a trap. Women always do that, try to rope you into these seemingly innocent conversations about "the future" and "where this is going." It's ridiculous. You fuck a woman more than five times and she practically hears wedding bells.

That's why it's an advantage to fool around with lots of different women. You make no promises about it. It'll be one night, great sex, but please don't feel obligated to stay for breakfast the next morning.

Things were always different with Rogue, though. I can't pinpoint why exactly. Maybe because I was her first? And those first few weeks of learning how to deal with her mutation was as much of a group activity as it was personal for her? Maybe because we started when we were so young? I don't know. I don't really care. I'm not going to waist my time dissecting our relationship. There's only two things in my life that I'm absolutely sure about. One of them is none of your business, and the other is that I will never stop wanting Rogue. We're connected, always have been, and I will never let that go.

I mean, she's so focused on the task at hand that her comment seems off hand.

The other reason I can promise you that I'm not being pulled into something is that my girlfriend is the most commitment-phobic person I have ever met. It took years for us to move in together, and that was only because I built a house specific to her. It was hers weather she wanted to live together or not, but I didn't present it that way. I wasn't going to give her a chance to back out.

See, if Rogue has an opportunity to do so, then she will.

When we first started whatever it was we had, things were different. She showed up at the pool hall I used to frequent in New York. She beckoned to me with one little finger and led me outside. At this time, we were still kind of on the opposite side of things, so I should've been weary… but she looked so good in that tiny black skirt and combat boots that I followed her behind the brick building.

She looked nervous. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the biting of her lip, her fisted hands.

I leaned casually against the brick behind us, and cocked an eyebrow. And waited. I waited for her to gather the courage she needed for whatever she needed to say. And, while I did so, I basically leered at that little tight body. Rogue has always been extremely attractive, and I enjoyed that fact, drinking her in from her infamous white streaks to those heavy boots.

Her normal bravado was missing. I knew this girl, had seen her enough to know that she was a bit of a bruiser. But something had her out of her element, out of her comfort zone.

The she came out with it: sex. She wanted sex. She wanted to experience what people do every day, and she thought I could help work around her mutation.

I couldn't say no. It sounded dangerous, it sounded sexy, it sounded like the thrill of a lifetime. Trying to get us both off, and risk the chance of death or an incredibly painful coma at the same time? What a rush.

Of course, then she mentioned that she was a virgin. There's no shame in that, everybody starts somewhere, but Remy doesn't normally do virgins. They're clingy and weird and don't understand that "making love" doesn't happen all that often or for their first time.

But, on the other hand, that meant she'd be tight and I all ready knew I couldn't turn her down.

I stood forward, taking a step towards her, and placed a gloved hand on her cheek. She shivered at the motion and I all ready felt it going straight to my dick. I let my thumb brush her cheek and land on her lips. She whimpered. It was the hottest thing I'd ever heard.

I dropped my voice down low, and tilted my head toward her, letting my lips brush the hair on the side of her face. "Chere," I whispered, "Yo got yoself a deal."

I started to walk away from her, leaving her face flushed and chest heaving a bit with the exertion of her breathing hard.

After a moment, she seemed to gather a least a little bit of her composure. "Hey!" I turned as an angry voice shouted down the alley at me, "What?! Are yah just gonna leave meh like this?!"

Always leave them wanting more.

I turned my head slightly, just so she could see my smirk, "Don't worry chere, Remy'll call yo."

And I did call her. I invited her over to my apartment and showed her just how creative I was. When I commanded her to strip, she was terrified. Her skin was dangerous, and she was worried about contact. I pointed out that I was doing her a favor, and I deserved to see the sexy, little body that would be mine to play with.

It was a bit of a rough start, but after we were about two orgasms in, she would do whatever I wanted. Her body was pliable, and easily bending into any position I suggested.

Those first few weeks - months? - were definitely just physical. I don't know when the change turned to something else, something deeper and more emotional. All I know is that two years later, we found ourselves wrapped up in each other's bodies, skin to skin for the first time, on a secluded beach in the middle of the Caribbean, and I never wanted to let her go. If I could've kept her riding my dick with her tits pressed up against my chest for our whole lives, I would've been happy to do so.

Maybe that's when I knew?

We were pulled apart again; her in New York, me in Louisiana, but fate brought us back together. And I surely wasn't going to let go.

Rogue is primping in the mirror, and I have my proof (or lack there of) when I turn the question back to her, "I don kno. Do yo' ever tink about it?"

The panic is almost immediate. Her eyes grow wide and before she can start stuttering, she jabs herself in the eye with the pencil she was using on her eyelids.

"Dammit!" She closes her eye tightly for a second, and presses the heel of her hand against it.

"So," I start again, before she can change the subject, "Do yo?"

"Remy," she's leaning closer to the mirror, focused on the eye appearing a bit more red than the other. She begins to sweat, I see it across her hairline, and then she begins to stumble over her words, "No. Yes. Wait, I mean no. I don't know. Maybe? One day? A long, very long, so long I'm not thinking of it, time from now?"

I knew that might throw her. I'm telling you, commitment terrifies the girl. I don't know why. Maybe because the people that raised her ultimately abandoned and/or used her? I'm sure that could've caused some issues.

She pulls away from the mirror, and turns to face me. She lets out a slow breath. Her lips twist and she seems uncharacteristically nervous. My woman is pretty much unflappable - I mean, she will run into a fight, fists up ready to go - but you ask her one question about marriage and she's totally shook up. Too bad I didn't know that years ago.

She bites her lip, and squints her eyes a bit before attempting to smoother her face back out, "Ah'm happy with the way things are right now."

I don't bother to pull myself up from where I'm leaning against the door frame, but I nod in acquiescence, "Me too, chere."

"But," she pauses and looks at me somewhat intently, "if Ah did ever think about it, a long, long time from now…Are yah," she stops and reevaluates what she wants to say, "Would yah be open tah that?"

I look at her intensely for a second, knowing this isn't easy for her. Her and I don't talk much about the future, or at all really. (Mostly because I don't want her running for the hills.)

But if she's looking for some kind of reassurance from me? Some kind of commitment? She's got it.

Rogue has always been the endgame for me.

I step away from the frame and see her stiffen as I approach her. I place a hand on the bare skin of her back and lean down to kiss the top of her head.

"O' course, chere. If dat's what yo want."

I turn to leave the bathroom, to let her finish getting ready in peace and I hear her exhale a huge sigh. I look over my shoulder to see her whole body sag in relief.

I head downstairs, figuring I can try and clean up a bit before we have to go.

It's not that I don't believe in marriage. I just don't believe in legally binding documents. They mean nothing. I mean, what weight does a piece of paper hold? Answer: None. At least not if it's a forgery (which, chances are, it is).

But I guess that doesn't matter. Some people believe in it: Petey, Kitty, Rogue. . . It means something to her.

If Rogue wants to get married, a year or ten years from now, she just has to say the word.

I would marry her now. If she asked, I would.

It makes me wonder if she's looking for some sort of commitment, maybe subconsciously. I doubt she'd ask about it otherwise. Well, whatever she wants, she can have. I'll commit. I am committed to her, to us, to the life I can only build with her.

I wait patiently for the few moments it takes for Rogue to finish getting ready and join me in the kitchen.

She seems a bit more composed now, and I can't help from look her up and down.

"Chere," she looks toward me, "Dat dress really is something else."

She winks at me, and it seems that she's relaxed. Not making a big deal out of it is the best idea, and I can see that moving the conversation along has helped her feel back to normal.

And I'm not being facetious; she really does look like sex in that dress. She's added a pair of black heels to the outfit, and it's an incredible turn on.

Frankly, those heels are my favorite outfit when we're having sex.

My eyes linger on those hips of hers before sliding upwards. That high collar makes me want to just peel the dress off of her, and I'm sure her naked should blades are going to make me feel the same way. Her eyelids have dark purple brushed across them, making her green eyes pop. Rogue doesn't wear makeup all that often - I guess her bare face is making up for the years of goth makeup - but it looks nice on her. Her red lipstick is what really gets me, it's like a bullseye, and I want to kiss her.

I step into her personal space, and push her backwards until her backside bumps into the kitchen counter. I thrust my hips forward so my pelvis is cradling hers.

I know she can see the desire in my eyes. I can't hide it. I can't hide my hard on either.

"Remy," she starts as I bring my hand up to her face.

I run my fingers down her cheek and stop when I get to her chin, grasping it in one hand. I tilt her head upwards as mine tilts down, and our lips meet in a blistering kiss.

Her lips are soft and I pull the bottom one between my teeth, nipping at it lightly before crashing my mouth back onto hers. My hand wraps around her and I splay my fingers across the delicate skin on her back, feeling the warmth there.

As my lips start to travel downward, looking for the spot on her collarbone that always makes her melt, I feel a hand on my chest. It just makes my body respond more and my hips push harder against her.

She pulls away, now using both hands on my chest to push me back. "Remy," she takes a deep breath to compose herself, and calm her arousal, I assume, "We don't have time for this."

She probably right, but I drag my eyes down her body anyway, just so she's aware what's in my head, "Time fo what?"

She rolls her eyes, but her annoyance is ruined by the smile on her face, "Yah know what. Now, go wash my lipstick off your face so we can get going."

I grin and do as I'm told, even though there's something a little sexy about a red lip print smudged across my face.

I offer to drive as we head out the door, and I watch the creamy skin of Rogue's legs as she slides into my sports car.

It doesn't take long for us to drive into the city, but we do have to park in a parking garage a couple of blocks over. We are not going to ruin Pete's big surprise by Kitty noticing our car.

She walks next to me, matching my pace despite her choice in footwear.

We pass a handful of other people on our way to the restaurant, but luckily none of them are Pete or Kitty.

Walking past a bar, the man who is exiting takes the opportunity to whistle as we do so.

Now, to be honest, there is a 25% chance he's directly it at me, but judging the way I feel Rogue stiffen next to me, I guessing that's not quite the what's happening.

I pause as Rogue swings her body around.

Yeah, he's definitely leering at her.

I know what you're thinking. You heard about the Halloween party, Rogue told you about it. You know the thieves were catcalling her in her sexy little costume. What she probably neglected to mention were that it happened when her and I kissed, when I slapped her ass, when the two of us walked in together. We were on display - as a couple - and to my people, that was a big deal. That's what it was. It was the both of us, she wasn't singled out.

And, sure, she was in that little costume - that sexy costume I want her to put back on so I can take it off - but it's one thing to be in a safe space, not on the street and being treated like you're around for someone else's amusement.

I'll be honest with you: I liked showing Rogue off. She's the best decision I've made. That's the thing about thieves; we've made a career of taking things that we can't have, that don't belong to us. Showing up with Rogue makes me feel badass, because every single thief in the place could try to take her, to steal her for themselves, but it wouldn't happen. She might be on the fence about a future for us, but in the present I'm hers and she's mine. I know she feels like connection between us as deeply as I do.

"Chere," I warn slowly as she stomps us to the man that whistled at her.

The last man who catcalled her ended up with a black eye and a broken nose. Granted, it was Claude and he thought it'd be a funny joke when he saw her mount her bike at the train station after work one day. He was a bit sore - literally and figuratively - for a few days, but now he thinks that Rogue is totally badass, so it's fine.

"What?!" She turns to me, eyes narrowed, clearly not happy with my interruption.

"Jus gonna remind yo not t' get blood on yo' dress, we don' have time to go home an' change."

The man she's approaching doesn't even look worried. If he had any idea who he was dealing with, he would.

I see her posture change slightly, clearly taking my words to heart. She sticks one very pointed finger at his chest and her words are angry, "Ah'm not hear for yah to look at. Ah'm my own person, and yah need to learn to respect other people."

She turns around, looking pleased with herself.

"Ha," The man laughs out loud and directs his next comment towards me, "You should learn to control your girlfriend!"

I shake my head, because he got off so easy. Why couldn't he just left things be? "She belongs t' no one."

Rogue looks at me for a second, "Ah promise Ah won't get anything on mah dress."

I nod, but I'm sure she doesn't see it, because she's all ready whipping her body back towards the guy. He's about to find himself at the end of her right hook.

"Shit!" The man curses, and grabs his broken nose with both hands.

He's about to snarl something else at her, but she interrupts, "Yah better put ice on that as soon as yah get a chance."

Nothing is sexier than know Rogue can take care of her self.

She falls in step next to me, not a hair out of place, and takes my arm. "Yo' okay, Chere?"

She smiles at me, "Always."

I smirk at her, "Yo kno, if you got blood on yo dress, I'd be mo' den happy t' take it off of yo."

I feel her elbow me hard in the side as we approach the restaurant. We sneak around the back, and before she can reach for the door handle, I push her gently against the brick wall. Conscience of her bare back against the rough surface (which wouldn't bother me normally, but I can only imagine what her family with think if she showed up with her back all scratched), I only push her back slightly. I place my hands on her hips, thumbs running back and fourth over her. I place my lips near her ear, licking the shell of it, "Yo wanna get out o' here?"

I feel another uncomfortable elbow, this time in my stomach as she pushes me back.

"Now is not the time, Cajun!" She says it as if she's scolding me, but the heat in her cheeks tells me a different story.

It's those heels. They make me want to rip her panties off with my teeth.

We head into the back and find ourselves surrounded by her family. She's immediately drawn to Jubilee and Amara, talking excitedly, no doubt about Kitty.

I watch her backside as she approaches her friends. The lack of panty lines make me wonder if she's decided to wear anything underneath.

I see Bobby look her up and down (as does Ray, but again, he tries to be subtle), but when he turns and his eyes meet me, he runs the opposite direction and buries himself in the crowd.

"Ay mate!" Johnny slaps me on the back with one hand. 'You made it!"

I smile happy to see him, even happier that Pete will have more than just Kitty's extended family to celebrate with.

Someone started shushing us and the voices in the back room seem to disappear.

I hear loud squealing from the next room, no doubt Kitty's enthusiastic response to Piotr's question.

"Come on!" I hear my woman's voice as she pulls her friends and family into the adjoining room. I wait for the squealing to quiet down before I sling an arm around Johnny's shoulder and drag him along with me.

"Petey!" We find Piotr, the big guy is always easy to spot, and slap him on the back. John pulls him into a hug and I do the same. It's definitely a moment worth celebrating, "Congratulations, homme!"

I see Rogue across the room, grinning at Kitty, eyes clearly wet and holding back tears. I told her she was going to cry.

The party goes on for a few hours, and all I can think about is peeling that dress of my woman's body. As much of a good time as we're having, I can't wait to get out of here.

Rogue approaches me and wraps her arms around my neck. I can feel her body heat and the scent of her skin is damn near intoxicating.

"Yah wanna get out of here?" She signs as the words escape her lips, and it makes them sound breathy, like the way she moans during sex.

She doesn't even have to finish the question for me to grab her arm and pull her out of the restaurant. It takes minutes for us to run the few blocks we walked earlier.

We're in the car, and I'm speeding home. The air between us crackles with electricity and sexual energy and I just want to take her to bed. She slips down the visor and reapplies her lipstick while looking in the mirror. She can try and act normal; I'm more than aware of her squeezing her thighs together. She only does that when she's really horny for me (otherwise she'd just take care of it herself).

We stumble into the house, hands on each other's bodies as my lips crash against hers. She's unbuttoning my shirt as we fight to make it up to the bedroom. She throws my bow tie onto the stairs and pushes my shirt off my shoulders.

I dig my hand into the hair at the back of her neck, holding her lips captive against mine, as one of her hands slides up my chest, and the other hand tugs on the hem of my undershirt.

My tongue fights with hers as my hand finds the zipper on the back of her tiny collar. It takes a moment for it to get undone, and her top falls open, hanging from where the dress fits snugly around her hips.

Her breasts look fantastic. I cup them in either of my hands, and the flesh fills them comfortably. As I squeeze them a bit, I hear her groan slightly. I pinch her nipples between my fingers, and I hear a shape intake of her breath.

I need to get her into bed, I need to be inside of her.

I move my hands to her hips and slide them around to that perfect ass.

"Jump," I command her and she responds with out thinking. As she wraps her legs around my waist, I hold her under her ass and my lips find a way to her collarbone, licking and nipping as I walk backwards into our bedroom.

I lay her on the bed, and stand back up to remove my clothes without preamble. Her eyes are on me and I like the way it feels when she looks at my skin.

She wiggles her hips out of the dress and drops it on the floor next to the bed. I was right about earlier: no panties.

I unbutton and unzip my fly and let my pants fall to my feet, before tearing off my undershirt and boxer briefs.

"Leave the heels on?" So hot.

She winks at me in response.

I step towards her and grab an ankle. I kiss the inside of the ankle, and kiss along the inside of her leg as I crawl into bed. I repeat the process with her other leg, and feel her begin to squirm as I get closer to the apex between her thighs.

She's all ready wet.

I use my fingers to spread her folds before dipping my tongue inside of her. I immediately feel a hand on the top of my head, urging it back down. She moans and I want her to go wild. I look up from between her legs to see her eyes closed and a hand balled around the sheets. I taste her again before replacing my tongue with two fingers. I move my lips to the clit and suck gently while her body writhes beneath me. I hear her moan something similar to my name and I suck harder, flicking her most sensitive part with my tongue.

I pump my fingers faster within her and lap at the juices leaking around them before going back to the clit. I start sucking again, hard enough to be too much for her, but enough that I know it'll work her off quickly.

Her breaths are ragged and I feel her thighs tighten around my head, trying to keep my face pressed against her. I can feel her thigh muscles near my ears quiver.

"Oh, Ohhhhh," She moans at me and her hips start rocking up against my face, in time with my fingers.

I can tell the moment she comes, she presses herself hard against my face, while her hand presses hard on the back of my head.

She shouts out loud, and then her whole body slumps. She half-heartedly waves a hand at me, trying to give her space to recover. I give her what she wants, and slide my fingers from her warm body, bringing them to my lips to lick them clean. I love the way she tastes.

After a moment she sits up, and pushing me backwards, presses a quick closed mouth kiss to my lips. She then kisses my cheek, my neck, my chest, my stomach.

She runs her fingers though the curls nestled around my dick. I feel her mouth move downward, and I know she's about to blow me. Not yet.

I tighten my arms around her and roll us over so I'm back on top. I bend my bend down and kiss her deeply, pressing our bodies together. I feel my dick so close to where it wants to be, and I rotate my hips, pressing them against her, looking for a bit of relief.

I'm not going to fuck her tonight.

If she wants commitment, assurance of something deeper, I'll show her exactly how I feel about her.

I reach down to grab my cock, giving it a few tugs, before positioning it at my woman's entrance. I burry myself within her with one long, powerful thrust.

I hold myself in that position, buried to the hilt, without breaking eye contact. I rock my hips slowly, and she wraps her legs around my body. I can feel her heels digging into my back.

She lifts her hips to meet mine, and she tries to increase the pace, but I don't let her.

I rock back and fourth, enjoying the slow, deep thrusts. It's not easy to hold back, but I do so, slowly building her up to another climax. I feel her walls tighten around me, and she orgasms around me. I don't stop; I continue to thrust into her as she's coming.

"Remy, Remy, please," her voice is breathy and desperate. I doubt she even knows what she's begging for.

I thrust harder until I feel something coiling tightly within me. I grind my hips against hers and press our lips together as I come deep inside of her. I don't break eye contact the entire time.

I collapse on top of her, pulling out, and breathing heavy. After a moment, I roll off of her and onto my back.

She lies on her side next to me and tucks herself into my side.

I look at her body, and I know I'll be able to go again soon. My hand absently strays to her breast and I roll the nipple between my fingers.

Her hand is on the side of my neck and we're kissing again. I left my hand drift down to her velvety folds again, sliding a couple of fingers in and out. She gasps in what sounds like surprise, but she should've expected as much. I add a third finger and feeling her around me gets my blood flowing down to my cock again.

I roll onto my side so that we're facing each other. My right hands continues pumping its fingers in and out, and slide down the bed a bit so I can wrap my lips around a nipple. It hardens in my mouth and I lap my tongue against it.

I want her so bad. I remove my fingers, wipe them on the sheets, and then wrap my arm around her waist to pull her closer to me. I grab my dick and put it where it has to go, sliding right into home.

The position forces me to grind my hips into hers. Without the ability to thrust hard, I'm just rocking my body against hers, and it could take a while before it makes me come. I don't mine.

She sighs, hand on my chest, and her eyes start to close in pleasure.

"Chere, look at me," I make the request and she does, eyes staring into mine, as we're almost nose to nose.

"Yeah?" Her back arches as my hand makes it's way between her legs, trying to rub her off once more before we climax together.

"I love yo."

Her eyes close as the build up happens, "Ah love yah too."

* * *

I wake up to the sound of the shower. Rogue has to get up early for work, so these days she's been known to beat me out of bed.

We spent most of the night making love. I get off three times and there's plenty of evidence of it in our sheets, and my woman came six times. It was a pretty satisfying night.

The shower stops running and I lay in bed until I see Rogue exit the bathroom, fully dressed.

"Mornin' sugah," She gives me a quick peck on the lips before rushing out the bedroom, "Sorry-running-late-bye!"

With that she's gone and I hear the door slam downstairs as she exits through the garage.

I take my time getting up, feeling more than relaxed from our activities. I saunter into the bathroom and take care of business. I turn to the sink to wash my hands and catch my reflection in the mirror. There's red smudged across my lips, as well as on my cheek, neck, and chest. Seeing the perfect little lip print on the inside of my left pectoral muscle gives me an idea.

I brush my teeth, and wash my face and neck. I smooth down my hair before grabbing a pair of underwear, sweat pants, and a zip up hoodie.

I figure I can just shower when I get home.

I scarf down a banana before heading out of the house.

It doesn't take me long to reach my destination, knowing it'll be fairly empty at 10:00 am.

I walk in and am greeted by a friendly face, "So what'll it be?"

I grab the zipper pull at the top of my hoodie, and drag it down to the bottom, revealing my bare chest, and indicating the mark on it.

The man nods, "Same color?"

I pause to think about it as I slide the sweatshirt off my shoulders. I shake my head, "Non. Can yo' do purple?"

"Sure," The tattoo artist nods in response and indicates which chair I should take a seat in.

I get comfortable as he runs a razor over my already smooth chest. The tattoo guns kicks on and I hear the steady buzz.

"This your first tattoo?"

I nod, but I'm really not worried. The pain can't be worse than anything I've felt before. I'm sure the artist can guess as much, as close as he is to the mangled scars on my chest. It'll be a nice change, Rogue's lip mark right over my heart.

The artist pauses for a moment before he gets started, "She must be some girl."

"Oh," I grin, "Yo have no idea."

* * *

Whoo! So that's it, friends! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It sounds like our Remy finally found his happily ever after :-D

Reviews = Love


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